The Last Abhorsen
by Seeker of the Charter
Summary: A morbid little fic that was based on a dream I had. It is about the last ever Abhorsen, and how she came to be the last.


The Last Abhorsen

I am the Abhorsen. My tale begins late one afternoon when I was fishing with my brother. I hadn't caught much, and neither had he. I reeled in my line and was about to toss it out one last time when a voice sounded in my head. "If you cast the line back in, you will lose thirty."

The words didn't make sense, so I ignored them and cast the line back in. No sooner had I done so, than a huge fish tugged at my line. I grinned over at my brother and reeled it in, but by the time I got it to the shore, I wasn't smiling anymore. The thing on my line wasn't a fish, but instead some sort of dead or free magic creature I'd never seen before.

A chill crawled up my spine as I suddenly realized that whatever it was, it must be immune to the effects of running water. I recoiled as the creature opened its mouth, revealing a black-toothed maw leading only to darkness beyond. "I warned you," It croaked. "But you did not listen. Now thirty of your closest friends and relations will die, and in the end, so will you."

I screamed out the most powerful charter spells I knew for binding, breaking, restraining. Un-phased, the creature chuckled evilly and then sank its teeth into my brother, killing him instantly. I fled helplessly into the trees by the lakeside. _If only I'd brought my bells! _I thought, a tear falling unbidden from my eye.

The creature seemed to read my mind and chuckled again. The sound reached me as it carried on the breeze and I screamed, covered my ears, and fled like a coward. There was nothing else I could do.

I ran down the hill, stumbling over the rough, uneven ground. By the time I reached my traveling companions I was in tears. My body was bruised and bloody and I was short of breath. My three best friends came running to my side, asking what was wrong.

Though gasping for air, I told them of the creature, of my brother's fate. I told them to pack up camp and warn the other travelers. We needed to leave immediately. _I _needed to leave.

As everyone ran frantically around the campsite to prepare, I crawled to my pack. I pulled out my bell bandolier and strapped it in its usual place across my chest. The weight was comforting, and for a moment, I relaxed. But just for a moment.

When we started to move out I was a nervous wreck once again. We were traveling by the river, and for the first time in my life, that made me uneasy. Somehow I knew that as long as we were by water, the creature would follow us. I tried to convince my companions that we should move to drier land. They looked at me like I was crazy and refused.

I didn't argue and walked silently at the head of the crowd. Behind me I overheard my best friend's voice as she whispered to those around her. "I pity the poor soul who gets taken next." She said. Upon hearing her words I somehow knew that she would be next. I glanced back at her youthful face and long, red-gold braids and allowed another tear to trickle down my cheek.

The following morning I found her body in the river. I wept for her, but there was nothing I could do otherwise. There was no sign of the creature. There never was.

Nearly a month later only I remain. All of my companions are dead. Every morning I found one of their bodies in or by the river. The creature was never there, but the evidence of its presence was undeniable.

I wept for each one that died and burned their bodies. I prayed that they would all pass calmly through the Ninth gate, never to return, and then I would go on with my life. Grief would do nothing for me.

Now, as dusk falls, I sit by the river and wait. I know the creature will come for me and I am ready for it. Saraneth, the binder, rests in my pale hands. I am calm, prepared to accept my fate, whatever it may be.

Finally, around midnight a chill crawls up my spine. I ready Saraneth in my hand, and as the creature leaps out of the water, I ring it. No sound comes. The creature is staring at the bell and when it sees that I notice, it laughs.

The bell shatters in my hand, shards of charter-spelled metal and mahogany embedding themselves in my flesh. One by one the other bells meet the same fate until only Astarael, the weeper, remains. My bleeding hand reaches to the bandolier and undoes the straps holding the bell in place. Shakily, I draw it from its resting place and ring it.

Astarael sings her mournful song and the creature shrieks and writhes on the ground before me. It tries to resist the call of death and it lashes out towards me. As it gets closer it notices that it can reach the bell in my hand. It opens its toothy maw and with it's dying strength, bites into my arm.

I am already gone. Astarael rings on without me, its sound finally fading as my severed arm falls to the ground. I feel nothing. Pain is beyond me. I am passing through the gates and will soon go beyond the Ninth, from which I will never return.

I have only one regret. I left no heirs. My brother would have taken my place, but he is dead. He had no children either. As far as I know, we were the last of our kind. There will be no others.

I am the last Abhorsen.


End file.
